Two Hundred Eighty-Eight

My eyesight bothers me. To see distant images requires me to remove my reading glasses; to see my screen and to read, I need to put them back on. Among many other challenges that fact present is this one, relevant primarily to  writing: I cannot simply lift my head and gaze out the window in search of inspiration as I am wont to do. Each time I try, the blurry sight before me reminds me I must remove my reading glasses for even an imperfect view of the world outside my window. I have never wanted so badly as I do now to wear glasses that allow me to see clearly, near and far. Yet I recognize I am fortunate, even with my temporarily poor vision, to have sight. It could be far worse and, for many others, it is.

Well, my notebook computer died, but at least I have a backup desktop that allows me to sit at the computer and stare at the blur. Privilege leaks from my pores.

About John Swinburn

"Love not what you are but what you may become."― Miguel de Cervantes
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One Response to Two Hundred Eighty-Eight

  1. Teresa says:

    Get a pair of the half lensed ones, so you can peer out over the top.

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